Hysteria
by Solivagant
Summary: Gillian is having enough trouble getting through her divorce, so she doesn't need the added problems of a shady therapist, a nosy partner, and a murderer out to get her. Callian, of course.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of the characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Hysteria: Prologue**

Flashes, glimpses.

The pain shot through her body, numbing her senses and pulling her under.

Someone was screaming her name, but she couldn't claw her way to the surface in time to answer.

She was picked up, laid on a stretcher.

Blaring sirens… an ambulance.

She saw the blood, her blood, coating the hands of another.

A sharp prick in her arm, a needle.

Doctors, nurses, blurred, worried faces hovering over her.

"Stay with me Gillian," a voice pleaded.

Blackness.

She forced her eyes to open. Cal was leaning over her, worried and afraid in a way she'd never seen him before. He held one of her hands in both of his.

Gillian's eyes darted around her surroundings. She saw white, needles, wires, tubes. Machines were beeping, and muted voices shouted at each other.

Cal brought Gillian's hand to his lips. "I'm so sorry, love."

Unable to speak she closed her eyes, submitting to the dark…


	2. Little Black Book

**Disclaimer: I do now own Lie to Me or any of the characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Hysteria: Little Black Book**

Gillian hid them from view and stood just as Cal walked into her office.

"Hey, Foster," he greeted her.

"Hey, Cal." She grabbed her coat and pulled it on.

"Where're you running off to?"

"I uh, have somewhere I need to be."

"Huh," Cal said nodding. What was it that she didn't want his to know _this_ time?

Gillian checked her watch. "I have to get going if I don't want to be late."

"We'll talk later."

"Sure. I'll be back before the end of the day."

Cal nodded again, licking his lips and walking away to pretend to study a file in the lobby. He watched Gillian stride out of the building, waiting until she was safely gone before spinning on his heel and heading back to Gillian's office. He rapped three times on the door. There was no response, but one wasn't expected. Cal pushed the door open and sauntered in, going straight for her desk.

A few stray papers lay across the top, but they were all case related. Cal pushed them aside, revealing a little black book. It was a date book. For today there were two entries:

_3 P.M. Appointment, 62 Billiards Street._

_7 P.M. Meet Alec for dinner at Mariposa's._

"Appointment?" Cal asked out loud. Mentally, he shrugged. It was probably a realtor or something; Gillian had said she was looking into buying herself a new apartment now that she and Alec had separated. He set the date book back down on her desk and was about to leave when something else caught his eye.

Nudging more papers out of the way, Cal saw what it was. A hammer. Its handle was faded and smooth from use, the head of it stained with a dark red substance.

* * *

Lying causes all sorts of problems, even when you lie to yourself. Especially when you lie to yourself.

If there was a world without lying, maybe it would have no problems, no crimes, no secrets. Maybe everyone would understand one another; maybe the people would be just a little bit happier and open.

But, on the other hand, lies help to shape the world as we know it. Without lies there would be no freedom, nothing to hold on to that was just yours. Lies made humans human, though it was truth that really drove them.

It was truth that caused curiosity, justice, love.

Lies, working side by side with truth, to create the –

"Lightman!"

"Torres," he replied turning.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. Shouldn't you be working on the case?"

"Shouldn't you?" Torres retorted.

"How d'ya know that where I'm going doesn't have to do with the case?"

"It doesn't."

"Then call the cops on me. Look into Vance Dollen, okay? Criminal record, friends -"

"Family and co workers. Yeah, I got it," Torres interrupted impatiently.

"Then go," Cal said, more amused than annoyed.

Torres looked on the verge of sticking her tongue out at her boss, but after a moment she just bit her lip and walked away.

Cal couldn't help it – he laughed. Torres could be better than cable when she was feeling rebellious. She was his protégé, his walking, talking, fighting, hot headed, cable protégé.

Cal's laughter faded into a smile. He searched the street, trying to remember where he had parked his faithful BMW. Spotting it across the street and to the right, Cal crossed the street and hopped in, bringing the grumbling car to life. He joined the flow of traffic and began his search for Billiards Street.

* * *

**A/N: There is a very good reason why I began this story with a prologue. It has to be boring before it gets better=) **


	3. Puzzles

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of the characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Hysteria: Puzzles**

Gillian stepped out of the building. Cal watched from where his car was parked in the shade of an old oak tree as she got in her car and drove away. When she had turned the corner and it was safe, he pushed his car door open and climbed out. The BMW locked with a muted beep. Cal strode casually up to the building, reading the sign that hung beside the revolving doors.

Relationship Counseling, Joyce Dale

* * *

Gillian locked her office door behind her. The last thing she wanted was Cal bursting in for one of his 'little chats.' She went over to her desk, sitting of the edge of it. Her shaking hand went in her pocket, coming out with a folded piece of printer paper. Slowly, Gillian opened the paper, forcing herself to take deep, steadying breaths. The precise, printed words took up a mere three lines, but those few lines had the power to make Gillian want to scream, to make her cry, to make her fear for her life.

_Remember the hammer?_

_Remember me? What I can do?_

_Ah Gillian, you're going to regret that decision._

* * *

"How did you know Kathleen Marks?"

"Kathy? She was my girl," Vance Dollen said, smiling arrogantly.

"Did you love her?"

Dollen snorted. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Did you really?" Cal leaned forward, forcing Dollen to meet his eyes.

"Cal," Gillian warned lowly.

He leaned back again. "Alright. Let me try this another way. How did you feel when you found out she was dead?"

Dollen's nostrils flared in anger. His voice was lower and tenser and he spoke. "How do you think? I wanted to kill the bastard who murdered her."

"Huh."

Dollen relaxed, looking down and away for a brief moment.

"Why do you feel ashamed right now?" Cal asked.

"I don't," he growled.

"Tell me, Vance."

Dollen met Cal's gaze again. For a long moment the two of them stared each other down, Cal trying to read the teenager's face, Dollen deciding how much he wanted to say to these cops that had invaded his home and were now interrogating him.

"Look," Dollen finally said, "Kathy had this psychopath ex boyfriend who was stalking her or something."

At that moment, another teenager walked in the room from the kitchen, curiosity flashing across his face.

"My older brother," Vance explained irritably, barely glancing at the newcomer.

Cal nodded and stood. "Thanks, Vance." He held out his hand, which Vance took and shook firmly. "What was the name of this ex boyfriend?"

"Greg Jackman."

Cal nodded again. "Ready Foster?" he asked turning to her.

"Yep."

They headed out together. Once the door had closed behind them, Gillian turned to Cal. "So?"

"I dunno. We'll have to check out that Jackman kid."

"Maybe Vance was ashamed that he did nothing to get rid of this ex."

"You're smarter than you look."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Cal said. He studied her out of the corner of his eye and they made their way over the car. Gillian seemed like her normal, optimistic self, not like someone depressed by a failed marriage. But then again, this was Gillian that he was talking about. Anything could be hidden beneath that radiant smile.

* * *

"What did you guys find out?" Torres asked, coming up to Cal and Gillian as they strode through the lobby.

"Greg Jackman. Tell me who he is," Cal commanded.

"Don't you want to know about Vance Dollen?"

"Not at the moment. Put it on my desk."

Torres looked down at the think file in her hands. "Yeah, sure." She sighed softly. So much for hard work pays off.

"Um, Cal," Gillian said. "I've got to get going."

"Yeah, alright." It was getting late, and Gillian had a dinner date with her ex husband to sort things out. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye." Gillian turned and headed back out into the chilly fall air.

Torres glanced at her boss just in time to catch the micro expression that flitted across his face. "Lightman?"

"Done with Jackman's background already?"

Torres paused. Cal's face had returned to its usual, impenetrable mask. "No, I'll get on it." She left Cal in the lobby, shooting a glance over her shoulder at him.

Cal waited until her footsteps had faded before heading back out the front doors. He had a one Joyce Dale to pay a visit to.

* * *

Cal threw the ball up in the air.

Dale.

He caught it.

Dale.

He turned the ball over in his hands, running his eyes over the faded lines.

Joyce Dale was a very curious kind of person. She was perky, dressing brightly and with many accessories, yet somehow caring, leaning forward to listen to stories and offer her advice. She kept her secrets her own, yet she encouraged others to spill theirs.

Her name sounded vaguely familiar. Cal got the feeling that Dale was a name he should know, but for some reason or another, he couldn't dredge up the memory.

Cal sent his mind back, trying to think of past friends, adventures, cases. Somewhere the name Dale had to pop up. He didn't get far before he was interrupted.

Torres appeared in Cal's office doorway. He tossed the little red ball he was studying at her before she could open her mouth. She caught it easily, looking to her boss in confusion.

"Does the name Dale mean anything to you?" he asked.

Torres shrugged. "Chip and Dale?" she suggested.

"Who?"

"Never mind. I'm done with Jackman."

"I'll look through it in the morning. Dollen's too."

Torres dropped the file on Cal's desk. "It's about Foster, isn't it?"

"Does it matter?"

She crossed her arms across her chest. "Why not just tell the truth for once? Just admit that you do care about Gillian?"

"I do care about her, the same way I care about you or Loker or whoever the hell else I know," Cal said, his voice raising.

He hated when people didn't agree with him, when they didn't bend to his wishes, when the defied him... when they spoke the truth he didn't want to hear.

"Okay, fine. Pretend like you always do, like you always have. It's all a damn lie!"

"I told you," Cal said, fighting to keep control over his anger. "I do care about her. I just know that Gillian can take care of herself."

Torres' lip twitched in disgust. "Look at yourself, Lightman. Did you ever think that maybe she needs you?"

Cal clenched his jaw. He couldn't think of a response to that, and Torres hadn't exactly left him room for one. Torres snorted and spun on her heel, disappearing again. When she was gone, Cal leaned back in his chair, regaining composure.

No, he had never considered that.


	4. Just Another Day

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of the characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.**

**A/N: Here the interesting-ness starts.**

* * *

**Hysteria: Just Another Day**

Gillian closed her eyes, letting the cold water wash over her. She _felt_ the icy water penetrate her skin, _felt_ it get her heart pumping, but she couldn't_ feel_ herself waking up, coming alive.

She leaned against the wall of her shower, reaching out to twist the knob to hot water. The water warmed quickly, burning her bare body this time. Gillian didn't care; she hardly noticed.

There was nothing that could motivate her, nothing that could make her look forward to another day. There was just work, criminals, and lies.

Lies. That's what it all came down to, wasn't it? Everyone lied.

The water from the shower swept away her tears the instant they fell from her eyes, gone before she knew it like everything else.

Mechanically, Gillian washed herself, turned off the shower, and began to get ready for work.

Just another day of pretending.

* * *

"Good morning Mister Lightman!"

"Mister?"

Loker shrugged. "Torres is looking for you."

"Right, thanks," Cal said. He turned and walked away, pausing to call over his shoulder, "Oh, and Loker, there's a man in the conference room who has a case for you, something about a cheating wife."

Loker shrugged. "Sounds easy."

"She disappeared two days ago."

His smile faltered. "Damn. I was looking forward to checking out hot babes and pretending to work."

Cal raised an eyebrow.

"I'll get on it," Loker sighed.

Cal rolled his eyes and turned away again, almost running into Torres.

"You found me," Cal said with an amused half smile.

"Dale. You put a man named Blake Dale in jail a year and a half ago for killing a drug dealer without provocation."

Cal dimly remembered the case. He had never figured out what had caused Dale to hit the drug dealer with a baseball bat, he just had gotten enough evidence to jail him. "How old's the guy?"

"Um…" Torres flipped open the file. "Sixty five."

Cal held his hand out for the file. Torres passed it to him, watching his face carefully in hopes of catching a stray micro expression. She had no idea what Dale was to her boss, other than an enemy from a long forgotten battle.

Cal glanced at the man's mug shot. Blake Dale was old enough to be Joyce's father, but there couldn't be any relation between them; they didn't look anything alike. Joyce was blonde, Blake had black hair, Joyce was blue eyed, Blake hazel, Joyce had a small round nose, Blake a sharp pointed one, and the list went on and on. They even held themselves differently.

"Nice work, Torres." Cal closed the file and handed it back to her.

"Didn't find what you were looking for?"

"Nope." No use denying it.

So who exactly was Joyce Dale, and why was she hiding something?

* * *

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Thin, wispy hair, bags under her tired eyes, dry lips, forlorn expression.

Gillian smiled, but it looked too fake.

She turned away from the mirror with a sigh and padded over to her closet. Her hand gripped the knob and pulled it open.

The world exploded.

* * *

"Hey, are you Greg Jackman?" Cal called to the teenager who was working the cash register.

"Yeah," the kid replied. He had shoulder length golden colored hair and nervous brown eyes. "Why?"

"I'm Cal Lightman, with the FBI."

Greg's eyes darted from Cal to Torres, and he took off, making a mad dash for the doors.

"Oi!" Cal shouted, chasing after the boy. They raced through the double automatic doors and onto the parking lot. Greg chanced a glance over his shoulder, and ran into a middle aged woman, causing him to trip and fall. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Cal caught up to him and pushed him back down.

"I think you have to come with me."

* * *

"Dr. Lightman!" Heidi yelled as he entered the building with Torres and Greg. "Dr. Lightman!"

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"There's been a bomb."

"I'm already working a case."

"No, you don't understand. Dr. Foster was bombed."


	5. One Problem Solved, Another One Waiting

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of the characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Note: The rating did go up from K+ to teen.**

* * *

**Hysteria: One Problem Solved, Another One Waiting**

_"Dr. Foster was bombed…"_

Cal burst into the emergency room, ignoring the protesting doctors and nurses. His eyes darted around the room, settling on the one person he was looking for. He jogged over to the hospital gurney she sat on, pushing past patients with broken arms and nosebleeds.

"Gillian."

"Cal?" She glanced up at him in surprise.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just burned in a few places. Minor-"

"Who planted the bomb?"

"I-I don't-"

"Who would want to?" Cal demanded impatiently.

"I don't know," she said helplessly.

Cal's expression softened instantly. "Sorry, love."

Gillian shrugged as if it didn't matter. She just wanted Cal to leave and get back to work; she hated him seeing her in this state. He was always so strong and confident that her being vulnerable made Gillian feel ashamed, almost.

"Foster?" he said to get her attention. When he had it, he continued. "I won't let anyone hurt you again," he promised.

"Thanks." Gillian just didn't know if it was a promise he would be able to keep. "Cal, you should know that there was this note I got a few days ago."

"Note?" He straightened up, eyes flashing.

"I don't know who it was from," she said slowly. "I think it may have been someone I used to know." She did know, though. Or at least she had a fairly good idea of who it might be. If Cal knew, however, he would probably murder the man himself. What Gillian wanted was justice, safety, not a homicide on her hands.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

She just shook her head slowly. "I didn't think it meant anything."

* * *

Ria Torres laid the pictures on the table. They were of Kathy Marks, their dead murder victim. Lightman had left suddenly and without any explanation, so now Torres was stuck with the interrogation.

"You were stalking Kathy," she stated.

Greg Jackman said nothing, just stared at the pictures of the woman he loved.

"Greg, were you stalking your ex girlfriend?"

He nodded slowly without looking up at Torres.

"Why?"

No response.

"Was it because she broke up with you?"

"No." The single word he spoke was low and firm, like he was offended by the idea.

What Torres saw on Grew wasn't guilt, or a fear of being caught. It was grief, the pure, honest grief of losing a loved one. The kid was no murderer.

"So why were you stalking Kathy?" Torres asked softly.

For a long moment, Greg was silent. Then he said, "To protect her."

"Protect her?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Protect her from what?" Torres probed.

"From the guy who did want her dead."

She leaned forward, holding Greg's gaze. "Who wanted to kill her?"

"Dollen."

"Dollen?"

"Dollen."

Torres nodded, gathering up the photos and papers and standing. She nodded at Eli through the glass wall and swept out of the room without another word.

* * *

Cal stepped out of his car, heading over to the two guys tossing a football back and forth. Foster was okay – physically, at least – and the doctors just had to clean and bandage her burns and cuts.

"Dr. Lightman?" Vance Dollen asked, catching the ball and tucking it under his arm. Vance and his brother, Jay, jogged over to meet Cal.

"You killed Kathy Marks," Cal accused Vance.

"What? No, I – I would never – I didn't kill Kathy!"

"I believe you."

"I… What?"

Cal turned to Jay. "You're the real murderer here."

"Wha - how dare-"

"I saw that look on your face. Yeah that. You were happy and relieved when I accused your brother of killing Kathy."

Jay bit his lip, knowing he was caught.

"You?" Vance asked, turning on his brother. "You killed Kathy?" He curled his hand into a fist, throwing a mean right hook and causing Jay to stumble back, anger flashing across his face. "You bastard," Vance hissed.

Jay gritted his teeth, mouth twitching up in disgust for his brother. "I loved her! We got in a fight and she fell," he growled.

"Fell? Or was pushed?" Vance demanded.

"It was an accident!"

"So you were seeing Kathy," Cal said to Jay, "and she decided she loved your brother. That sound about right?"

"It was an accident," Jay repeated steadily.

"Come with me."

"I'm not a murderer!"

"I don't believe you."

* * *

A/N: So… that's that. Just FYI, I don't know if it was clear enough, but that wasn't how our favorite little sweet toothed psychologist ended up like that in the beginning. And I'm sorry about crappy writing in this chappie. School is torturous, with test after test and over 200 kids out sick. Plus, field hockey is every day unless it rains. Hell, I'm making excuses. Sorry! Anyway, review and I'll be your bestest buddy, I swear it!


	6. Unattainable

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of the characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Previously, a bomb went off in Gillian's room, but she was - generally - fine. The Dollen case was solved, but we still don't know who's trying to hurt Gillian...

* * *

**

**Hysteria: Unattainable**

"Are you okay?" Joyce Dale asked to start the session. "I heard about the bomb in your room."

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks."

Joyce nodded. She could see that Gillian didn't really want to talk about it. "So when was the last time you spoke to Alec?"

"Well… We had dinner last night to talk a bit, try and figure things out. But other than that, we haven't really spoken much," Gillian answered.

"Okay." Joyce scribbled something down on her pad of paper. "This question may seem a bit unrelated, but it is very important, I assure you." Gillian nodded. "What is your greatest fear?" Joyce continued.

Gillian folded her hands in her lap, looking away. What was her greatest fear? "I guess… Losing everyone I know and being left alone in the world."

Joyce smiled sympathetically, as her job required.

"I mean, I know it's irrational…"

"No, it's not. No one wants to be completely alone. I don't think it would ever happen to you though, Gillian."

Gillian gave a doubtful little half shrug.

"You have lots of people in your life, like that one friend of yours… What was his name again?" Joyce asked the question like she already knew the answer, so Gillian assumed that she was just trying to get her to find comfort in the it.

"Cal." And it did bring a small smile to her lips. "Cal Lightman."

* * *

And so the days passed.

Slowly.

Monotonously.

Gloomily.

But still they passed.

A day turned into a week, a week into two, then three.

During that time, Gillian realized two things.

First, she was thoroughly done with Alec. No more trying to patch up a broken marriage, no more lying, pretending, crying. The misery was over - at least in that aspect of her life.

And second, because of her first realization, Gillian was free.

* * *

"Hey, Lightman!" Torres called, hurrying to catch up to her boss, who had begun speedily striding off in the other direction at the sight of her.

"Torres, me walking away from you does not mean 'I wanna talk.'"

"New case," she said, ignoring him.

Sighing dramatically, he held his hand out for the file. He briefly glanced at it. "We'll take it." Cal began to walk again, rolling his eyes as Torres jogged along beside him.

"Okay. The son of the Argotos, who's adopted, was-"

"Adopted?" Cal asked.

"Yeah, adopted. Why?"

Cal closed his eyes, stopping dead in his tracks. "Fuckin' hell."

* * *

Gillian boldly strode into Joyce Dale's building, confident that today would be her final appointment. As she seated herself across from Dr. Dale, she couldn't help the grin that crossed her face.

"Gillian?" Joyce asked in surprise - surprise that Gillian was there, not at the smile on her face.

"You seem surprised to see me," Gillian noted in confusion, smile fading.

"Well… I didn't think that you would be coming in today."

"I have an appointment, don't I?"

Joyce nodded slowly. "You didn't hear, did you?"

Gillian met the other woman's eyes, trying to squish the fear that took over all other emotion at the tone of Joyce's voice. "Hear what, exactly?"

"Gillian," Joyce paused, leaning forward. "Gillian, there was another bomb." She spoke softly in a pointless attempt to lessen the impact of her words. "The bomb went off in the building of the Lightman Group. Homeland Security had received a terrorist threat earlier in the day, but couldn't trace the call and found nothing in the building."

Every part of Gillian was focused on the woman in front of her. "Cal?" She could barely force out that one word.

Slowly, Joyce shook her head, taking Gillian's hand in comfort.

Gillian forced her lips to move. "Torres? Eli? Zoe? Alec?" Someone. She needed someone, anyone, to be alive, to be there with her.

Joyce just gazed at Gillian. "I'm so sorry. Alec and Zoe were both there, Alec looking for you."

"No." Gone. All... just gone. Hot tears streaked down her face, falling silently from her unblinking eyes. She couldn't organize her thoughts, couldn't fell anything other than panic.

He hurt Gillian her greatest weak spot. Whoever it was that had sent her the note, whoever had placed the hammer, whoever had set the first bomb had gone after the people that she loved the most. And now they were dead because she hadn't been able to find and stop him.

When her parents had died all those years ago, it had torn her apart. Just when that hole had finished its careful healing by way of the skilled hands of Cal and Alec, it was cruelly torn open again. Pain and distress flowed out of the wound, and plugging the hole again would be no easy task. It wasn't the first time, when it took plenty of coaxing on Alec's part to being Gillian's confused mind back to her body.

Even now, she could feel that numbness taking her over, refusing to accept that Cal was gone, that she would never see Alec, Torres, Eli or even Zoe again. Her body went into lock down mode, going stiff and mechanically nodding. Anyone looking into her eyes would think that she was calm, steady in the face of hell. No one could possibly guess that behind those shielded eyes crouched a fearful soldier, shot beyond hope of full recovery. It would take a minor miracle to bring meaning back to words, to love, to life.

* * *

**A/N: TBC, for sure, though it is taking me a little bit between updates, and for that I apologize. Just so you guys know, I have no clue what happened with Gillian's parents, and I totally made that up. Remember, reviews are love=)**


	7. Savior

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of the characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Right before this chapter, Gillian was told by Joyce Dale - a very suspicious marriage counselor - that another bomb went off, this time in the building of the Lighman ****Group, killing everyone she cares about.**

**

* * *

**

Hysteria: Savior

Joyce Dale could tell that Gillian wasn't listening to a word she was saying, so she smiled sadly, shut her mouth, and pulled out a Glock 19.

Now, _now_ she had Gillian's full attention. The devastated psychologist's eyes were wide with surprise. The last thing she had expected was her marriage counselor to hold her at gunpoint.

"Scream and I shoot," Joyce growled.

Gillian swallowed as she realized that Joyce wasn't lying. She was so consumed with anger, with hate, that she wouldn't hesitate in pulling the trigger on anyone that dared hinder her journey to her goal.

Hate was a very powerful thing. It had the means to completely devour the rationality of the person it chose as its host, to take over their life and control everything that they did, every choice that they made. And Joyce? She was without doubt ruled by the merciless Hate.

Joyce slowly got to her feet, keeping the gun pointed at the center of her unfortunate victim's head.

"What do you want with me?" Gillian asked, voice shaking and threatening to crack. Her eyes were focused on the barrel of the gun, and she had to force herself not to tremble in fear.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. You were just my stepping stone to get to your boyfriend Cal."

"You… You killed them?"

Joyce just laughed cruelly, tossing her head like an arrogant lion.

Gillian was hard pressed to suppress the fear that putting up a good fight against her faltering defenses. As she stared silently at Joyce, who now had her cell phone to her ear, Gillian could feel her mind's walls crumbling under Fear's crushing force. In seconds, Fear and all its troops were surging through the all too wide gap in the wall, filling her entire being and taking her limbs hostage.

A chill swept through her, rebelling against Fear's tyrannical rule, and she shuddered.

'Here is my death, and here my life ends,' Gillian thought grimly. But, somehow, death wasn't something that she dreaded. Maybe it was against human nature, but the end of life wasn't something to be feared in her mind. Besides, if she went to Heaven, she would be with Cal, if not Alec.

Gillian looked up at Joyce, calm, dry eyes meeting sadistic ones.

Joyce's lip curled. "You still don't remember?" she taunted.

Mechanically, Gillian shook her head slightly.

"No? Your friend Cal? He put my father in jail, the bastard."

"Your father?" Gillian asked, her voice still relatively calm. She folded her hands in her lap, swallowing again as she watched Joyce.

"Blake Dale, my adopted father. Ring any bells, bitch?"

Her chin jerked up defensively. "Dale, the murderer. I think I remember."

Joyce's lips twitched in obvious contempt for her prisoner, and her sweating fingers tightened around the Glock. "He was just trying to protect me from that damn drug dealer."

"He should have saved himself."

"But he didn't." Joyce took a couple strides forward, pressing the gun up against Gillian's throat. Gillian's breath quickened, and she sat up straight, chin in the air.

"You don't want to do this," she managed.

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"Because it's not me that you want, and you already killed Cal." As she said that, Gillian realized that something wasn't quite right about Joyce's plot. "Why didn't you just leave - kill Cal and disappear? Why hold me at gunpoint?"

Joyce's face hardened. Gillian shut her eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths. Her captor was a cold blooded killer, like her father.

'Goodbye, Cal. I love you…'

Two shots rang through the room in quick succession.

…

Her body toyed with consciousness, allowing her to have brief flashes of the world before handing her over the dark. But with consciousness came pain.

…

She felt hands on her, lifting her up and setting her down on something hard.

…

Her eyes flickered open, showing her the back of an ambulance and a pair of professionals hovering over her.

…

Then there were doctors swarming around her. Tubes and wires all over… Shouting… Too many voices… Gillian wanted to tell them to be quiet, that her head and stomach hurt, but before she could open her mouth she was unconscious again.

…

Her eyelids slowly slid open, and she blinked in the sudden light. Her eyes flashed across the red letters on the glass door that read 'ICU.'

Cal was there, anxiously leaning over her. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, smiling grimly.

He lifted her hand, brushing his lips against her pale skin. "I'm so sorry, love."

Gillian wanted to answer him, but she couldn't link the thoughts together in her mind. So she simply shut her eyes again, and was gone before she could draw another breath.


	8. Confessions of the Vengeful

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me or any of its characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.**

**Hmm… Last we met, Joyce Dale held a gun to Gillian's head after telling her that Cal and everyone else was dead. There were two shots, and next we knew, Gillian was in the ICU, Cal hovering over her.**

**Hys****teria: Confessions of the Vengeful**

'What the hell?'

Gillian's eyes snapped open, darting around the room. Hospital.

'What the hell?'

She began to sit up, but a short burst of intense pain stopped her. Wincing, Gillian pushed the blankets off her body. Her hand instinctively flew to the source of the pain: her stomach. Beneath the hospital gown, she felt bandages circling tightly her.

'Damn.'

Her stomach was killing her, and she had to keep her teeth tightly clenched to keep from crying out in pain.

"You're up. Again."

Gillian's eyes found Cal. He was leaning against the door of the ICU, a half eaten apple in hand. He raised it and took a big bite, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing before striding over to Gillian. The corner of her lip twitched in disgust. With her stomach hurting as it was, the thought of food absolutely repulsed her.

"What-" She broke off, clearing her throat at the sound of her hoarse voice. "What happened?"

"You were laughing," Cal said.

She paused. "Laughing?"

Cal took another bite of his apple before tossing it in the trash can by her bed. "Yeah. You were in hysterics after you got shot. You couldn't stop laughing. You don't remember?" He tilted his head to the side, studying Gillian. Her hair was a mess, her eyes tired. Cal blinked. She looked so vulnerable, sitting on a hospital bed without makeup, confused and in pain.

Gillian sighed and shook her head, looking up at Cal and waiting for answers.

"You were shot." Cal lowered himself onto the edge of her bed so he was at her level. He laid his hand on top of hers, ignoring the shudder that he felt race through her body at his touch. "You remember the Blake Dale case we worked on a year and a half ago?"

Gillian nodded silently, sliding her hand out from under Cal's.

Pretending not to care, he continued, "Blake Dale apparently adopted his daughter, Joyce Dale, when she was eight. That's why they didn't look anything alike. Joyce's real father had been abusive – and her mother had died of cancer a year after her birth – so naturally she became very attached to Daddy Dale.

"That drug dealer, Ray Mandell, ran into Joyce in the city one night when she was sixteen. It was an attempted rape; Mandell was high. But lucky for Joyce, her father was nearby. He had been paying for some clothes and she had just gone ahead to secure a table at the restaurant they planned to eat at.

"There was a problem, though. The druggie pulled a gun on Blake so he acted in self defense – grabbing a baseball bat that was leaning against the wall and beating Mandell to death. But upon actually searching the dead drug dealer, Blake found that what he had mistaken for a gun was simply the man pointing a finger at him. It had been dark and the street dimly lit. He was a murderer, and so, he ran. We caught up to him though, and he ended up with a life's sentence in prison."

Cal finished his narrative and leaned back, licking his dry lips. He had found all this out through the brief, but brutal, interrogation he had conducted with Joyce while Gillian was unconscious.

"And you were the one to find Blake and make a case against him," Gillian said, "so Joyce wanted you dead?"

"Yeah, sounds about right." Cal rested his hand on Gillian's arm, smiling slightly when she didn't pull away.

"Where do I come into this?"

"You were her stepping stone to me. She was crazy and wanted me to feel her pain before she murdered me."

"And so she hurt me." Gillian blushed, dropping her eyes to her lap. Joyce may have been totally insane, but she was smart enough to figure out the bond between Cal and Gillian, the bond that they themselves refused to admit. The way to Cal's heart was through Gillian.

Somehow, Joyce realized that fact and her plan had grown from it. Step one had been to get to Gillian, and she had. Step two was to use Gillian to draw out Cal. Joyce had, in a way, succeeded in that, though not with the desired result. Step three was, of course, to kill Cal in cold blood.

"She hurt you," Cal stated. He watched Gillian's reaction carefully, catching every twitch of her lips, every blink, and every breath.

"She shot me," Gillian replied, though she knew Cal meant something else entirely. He was referring to the mental pain Gillian had endured, not the physical pain that burned her body even now.

Her eyes met Cal's dominate, demanding ones, and after a moment she gave up their unspoken conflict.

"Joyce told me that you and everyone else were killed by another bomb," Gillian said softly. The mere memory of the stinging panic that had overtaken her defenses brought the heartache back to mind. A small tear formed at the corner of her eye and it slid softly down Gillian's cheek. It didn't go unnoticed. Cal followed its progress silently, lust fighting reason in a bloody civil war.

The lusting part of him wanted to reach out and brush the tear away, to take Gillian in his arms and tell her that he was there for her.

But Reason pointed accusingly at Lust, saying that passion only caused hurt when it came to the woman involved with Cal. Reason said that everything would fall into chaos if Lust won the battle, and so it fought with everything it had.

Cal sat beside his oblivious Gillian, still and silent as he watched grief claim her features.


	9. Ever After

Disclaimer: Don't own Lie to Me, or any of the characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: I'd totally forgotten about this! I had to re-read what I'd done so far about five times to remember what the storyline was. (By the way, this chapter probably won't make any sense unless you do go back and reread the last one.) And considering even then I don't really know where I was going, I'm basically finishing this up quite abruptly. Heh, sorry.

**Hysteria: Ever After**

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"I feel fine."

"But you're not. You were bloody shot, Gillian! Not to mention that bomb."

"It's been almost two weeks. I'm well enough to be discharged," she protested. The way she figured, Cal had been through worse without so much as stepping foot in a hospital, and therefore he had no ground on which he could stand and tell her to stay there.

"According to who?" he asked doubtfully.

"Me, and I know myself much better than those doctors."

"Not medically, love," Cal reminded her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Gillian finally shrugged, deciding to not argue with an immovable rock. She could simply talk to the doctors on her own and convince them to let her go. On more than one occasion, she had found that she could bow men to her wishes.

"Why did you apologize?" she instead asked Cal.

He shrugged, perching on the side of her bed. "Because I should have caught those lies when I went to see Joyce. It's my job."

"You went to see her?" Gillian echoed, blinking in surprise.

"Yeah," he replied, not sounding the least bit guilty. "I saw that you had an appointment with a marriage counselor and I naturally got curious."

After years of knowing him, Gillian had learned to expect that unexpected from Cal, the unpredictability that both lived up to her expectations and surprised her.

Outside of their woven little world, all that was to be heard were the mechanical beeps, the muted voices of doctors and nurses rushing to and fro. Those insignificant sounds seemed to be blocked out by the sonorous silence between them, though.

Gillian had been moved out of the ICU, and was doing great. She could walk, eat, and do anything with limited pain. Physical therapy would help with that.

Her eyes rested on a vase of assorted flowers that sat by her besides. Emily had brought them in a couple of days earlier, all compassion and optimism.

"Thank you," she said to Cal.

"For what? The flowers? Almost getting you killed?" He snorted, shaking his head slowly.

"For saving my life."

He glanced sharply at Gillian. Her eyes were down, and she refused to look up at him, even as he took her hand in comfort.

"She would have killed me if it weren't for you," she continued, running her thumb over the back of his hand.

Even Cal didn't know what to say to that. It was true – he had arrived just in time to play hero. What had happened was that he had burst into the room to find Gillian at gunpoint. He had shot Joyce a second before she pulled the trigger on Gillian, messing her Glock's aim up just enough so that it gave Gillian a stomach wound, as opposed to delivering a fateful kill shot.

"Where'd you get the gun, anyway?"

"Reynolds," they both answered at the same time, bringing a smile to each of them.

Those smiles lasted but a moment, before the graveness of the situation once again took them over.

Gillian stared at their intertwined hands, wondering why she didn't get a thrill from that connection.

Cal sat beside her, pondering the exact opposite. He wondered why he had suddenly felt a tiny spark between them, and when he had finally gotten over his ex wife.

"Would you have found another?" she asked softly.

"Another," he repeated. There were countless interpretations for that single word. Partner, friend, or… otherwise. He didn't take his eyes off their hands as he carefully chose his words. "Probably. But no one could ever replace you, Foster."

"You would move on," she stated, closing her eyes. Gillian knew that this – losing Cal – was a feat she would never in a million years be able to accomplish. It wasn't so much that she wanted him as that she needed him to be her anchor in the raging seas that the bravest sailors dared to call life.

"You would too."

"What makes you say that?" she challenged, wanting to believe that he was right.

"Look at you, love! You've been shot and you've take two separate bombs and already you're – you're dusting yourself off like nobody's business!"

"I'm a psychologist, Cal. I know how to handle it." _And I can lie just as convincingly as you._

"Is that seriously your excuse?" he asked, feigning incredulity. His hand tightened around hers. Always Cal had seen Gillian had a very strong and independent woman, cliché as it sounded. And to think that she was lying to herself about these characteristics that he had long since recognized as fact…

"I'm tired," she said. Gillian sounded worn out alright, but more by the direction the conversation was taking than by the hell she had been through.

"Tired? Tired?" Cal stood, leaning in close to her. "So you're giving up or something, are you? You said you felt fine. Come on, get up." He stepped back, daring her to contradict him, daring her to take a stand.

"Cal."

"Get up out of bed and let's go make sure we did that scumbag justice."

"I don't think I-"

"You can."

For a minute, they had a silent showdown. Cal had the upper hand though, and it was a quick, deciding fight.

Reluctantly, Gillian pushed herself out of bed, instantly wrapping her arm around her weak stomach. A small grunt of pain was the only initial complaint she made.

"See?"

"It hurts."

"You little baby," he accused.

"Cal!" Never before had he made Gillian the victim of his taunting, his provocations and experimental tests. This was crossing some line, surely, and she turned away from him in disgust.

He shrugged, though she couldn't see it. "It's true."

She didn't respond, but turned back to him with a fake glare on her face. Cal grinned at it, showing the palms of his hands in surrender. Gillian accepted the white flag and relaxed. She started to take a step towards him, only to have an acute pain shoot through her body, causing her to stumble.

Cal caught her, and she gratefully leaned into him.

"Sorry," she said quickly, ashamed of her weakness.

"Hey." He wrapped her in a warm hug. "Don't apologize."

Gillian slowly returned the hug, sliding her arms around Cal and abandoning the hold on her stomach.

Neither wanted to move. Neither did.

Gillian found comfort in his solid presence.

Cal held her tightly and was glad to have her in his arms, safe and sound.

As the seconds ticked by, Reason laid down arms and walked off the field.

**End.**


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